


The Trials of Brun and Aliara

by Kioma



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: BDSM, F/M, Predominantly Alliance Races, Reluctance (but still consensual)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-23
Updated: 2012-02-23
Packaged: 2017-10-31 15:09:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/345529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kioma/pseuds/Kioma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Human farmer named Brun and his beautiful Elven wife Aliara struggle to make a life after the fall of the Sunwell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Trials of Brun and Aliara

**Author's Note:**

> This is the longest erotica I've written, I think. One or two that I can no longer find might compare but I think this is still the longest.
> 
> If you're curious, Aliara's name has nothing to do with Liara T'Soni from Mass Effect. I didn't actually know anything about the game (other than it existed, was called 'Mass Effect' and was sci-fi) when I wrote this story. Actually I only just noticed the similarity in names yesterday.

"I love you, darling," he murmured, kissing the tip of her nose and then nuzzling it with his own.  
  
She, of course, didn't say it back bit he could see it in her eyes, the way they glowed with the purity of affection, the way her cheeks flushed in delight to hear him utter that phrase of adoration.  
  
Had her full, perfect lips not been wrapped around a red leather ball, held in place with exquisitely made straps, he was sure she'd respond in kind. And had her arms not been expertly tied behind her she would, doubtless, be clutching him in delight.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Aliara, her name, such music to his ears. They'd met in Stratholme before its defilement, fallen in love and left long prior to the predation of Dreadlord Mal'Ganis and the fallen Prince, Arthas Menethil. The sorrow of war never touched them for long, Brun Whitecleeve and his beautiful elven Aliara, and though he was merely human their passion had known no bounds.  
  
Until the day that Arthas... Came back.  
  
Aliara had been nowhere near the Sunwell, nor Quel'thalas, when the new Death Knight had torn through those magical glades like wildfire, killing and dismembering everything in his way. They lived on a farm in some secluded hills between Elwynn Forest and the Redridge Mountains, working it together, living a quiet and private life away from most others.  
  
But she certainly felt it when the Sunwell was corrupted.  
  
Those nights and days had been sheer horror. Nothing that he'd seen in his life compared to his beautiful elven wife tearing the house apart hunting for the slightest source of magical energy.  
  
Haggard was her face where it previously had been serene. Sharp and cruel was the tongue that had brought Brun only delight and pleasure. She had no desire for love, or sex, or even food as those pangs tore at her being.  
  
They had found enough to assuage her hunger... For a while. Being a married couple they'd received many such gifts for their wedding, which had taken place long before the strife, when humans and high elves had strained yet largely convivial relations. Her parents had been, understandably, distressed that their daughter was marrying a man who would leave her a widow for the greater part of her life. In the end, however, they'd given the union their blessing and brought many wondrous presents for the wedding. Before long, though, their fine gifts lay on the floor as dust and ash, drained of their power.  
  
Brun had never seen a junkie in the throes of withdrawal but he'd heard tales, like everyone, of addict kids in the city streets. Once upon a time he'd shook his head and mumbled about the follies of the world; to see his perfect wife reduced to a shambles in her desperation broke Brun's gentle heart.  
  
He'd subdued her and tied her up. After he could stand her screams no longer he'd gagged her, too, and left the house to seek help, or perhaps more magic. He bought, bartered and even stole magic items for her in and around Lakeshire. Now and then he'd find a grisly treasure trove – some adventurer who'd been brought down by the increasingly aggressive wildlife in Redridge.  
  
The humble farmer would bring these back for her, let her absorb their energies, watch her come to her senses enough to cry her golden heart out for burdening him so.  
  
Brun's actions were noble and loving in their intent but ultimately only delayed a spiral he could see unfolding before him. He didn't know what was going on. How could he have known? She'd never spoken of her people's malady prior to this. He thought whatever beastly sickness had gripped his bride might right itself. It was really only chance, after a full year of scrounging, that had him stumble across another high elf with eyes that glowed a strange green.  
  
He was tall, strong and healthy-looking, blonde hair tumbling down his shoulders and devilishly handsome. The human had spotted him on the road, looking about as if wary of being followed, and had summoned some kind of green flame about one hand before Brun managed to talk him down.  
  
He hadn't realised, of course, that he'd just met a Warlock, nor that his clear lack of fear for the intruder, his burning desperation and his reasonable skill with Thalassian were all that stopped Brun from getting a chaos bolt in the face. The elf went with him, cautious and curious in equal measures, and together Aliara and Brun explained the matter to him.  
  
Oh yes, he knew a way of saving her, he said... But the pair might not like it. And there was a price, too. Nothing the couple couldn't pay, certainly, but potentially something they very likely wouldn't want to. He demanded the right to bed her, his Aliara, his most precious jewel.  
  
What could they do?  
  
The elf - a blood elf, he insisted, not a high elf any more - had his reward. As the very familiar sounds of Aliara deep in rapturous orgasm echoed downstairs her husband clutched his mug of ale and wept silently. He heard her scream in passion many times that night.  
  
For four months this went on. The elf would leave early to 'hunt', though he never explained what. Around lunch he would return to feed Aliara some shard of magic and go again, then in the evening he would take the human's wife upstairs and fuck her until she was screaming down the walls.  
  
Then one morning the elf-man had left them. He didn't say where he was going, only that he wasn't coming back, and that they should not try to find him. He'd put a strange crystal on the table. It was about a foot high and glowed that ghastly green. Brun could swear it was... looking at him. She would be able to use that for a year or two, the elf had said, maybe as much as three if she were careful. After that she was on her own. She could die. He didn't care. She was just a cunt to him.  
  
Then he was gone. He left Brun with a nasty sneer and an unkind word, he left Aliara with piercing green eyes, fuck-swollen lips and a belly full of his seed, and both of them with heavy hearts.  
  
They never knew his name.   
  
* * * * *  
  
It took a long time for them to be able to make love again. Her bewitching eyes made her more beautiful than ever but she felt ashamed, unworthy of him, and he couldn't press her.  
  
They slept in separate rooms for a long time. Though they didn't share each other they were certainly no less eager for some kind of release, though. Two months after the elf had left Brun heard his wife pleasuring herself quietly and she sounded so needy, so heated, that he had to service himself - which she, in turn, heard.  
  
They spent almost every night listening to each other through a thin wall. Their moans drifted to each other, him frantically pumping his long, thick cock while listening to her stroking, fingering, slapping her wet pussy with a desperate ferocity that aroused and alarmed him.  
  
The morning after they would never mention what they'd heard. It was perhaps a year later when she broke down in tears and he'd rushed in to find her huddled in a corner pulling out handfuls of her lovely golden hair in her grief and confusion.  
  
"Why??" she'd demanded through her tears, clinging to him desperately. "Why can't I make love to you? After all you've done, all you've sacrificed..."  
  
"No, beloved, no," Brun had whispered, pulling her hands away from her bleeding scalp, holding them in his. "It was my fault, I should have been stronger -"  
  
She had always hated him blaming himself but now she was furious. From weeping babe to frenzied wildcat in an instant, Aliara had bitten, scratched, punched and pummelled him, screaming at him to shut up, to just shut up, until Brun had held both her slender wrists behind her back with one hand and brought the other around in a slap meant to bring her to her senses.  
  
  
  
Never had he hit his wife before, and never were things quite the same again. He'd hit her much harder than he had intended, too, the blow turning her face and leaving a bright red hand print.  
  
Her pupils had flared, cheeks flushed, a delicious moan sliding from her lips before she could stop it.  
  
That caught them both in their tracks.  
  
She let out a shuddering breath and started crying once more.  
  
"Again," she whispered, "please..."  
  
"But..." Brun felt appalled at the idea. But the look on her face as she turned it back to him, the loneliness of a year wanking to the sound of her pleasure, the sweetness of her voice...  
  
He slapped her again, or tried to, the blow pathetically weak, and she burst into renewed sobs. Heartbroken, inconsolable, she moved to pull away, so he...  
  
Well, he... Hit her again.  
  
That one was a cracker, almost literally. She fell to the floor, letting out a shriek of pain, one that couldn't disguise the moaning in her throat.  
  
Brun didn't know what came over him. Had no clue at all. One moment he was massaging his stinging fingers and the next he was literally tearing her nightgown off, ripping the silk and binding her with it.  
  
He grabbed for a knife that they kept near the bed in case of intruders and, not bothering to go through the waistband, grabbed the gusset of her panties, pulled it away from her sex and sliced through it easily.  
  
She had never been so wet and it made him angry, angry and hard. Had that elf done this to her? Had she liked it?  
  
Smack!  
  
His hand bounced off her backside over and over until the flesh glowed. She squealed and dripped, writhing under him, and he was finally forced to gag her with more strips of her torn gown.  
  
Two fingers slid up her tunnel, harsh and unforgiving, punishing her for cuckolding him so.  
  
Aliara had been transformed into a filthy green-eyed slut. She must have been because his fingers had barely begin to thrust when she let out a muffled shriek, body rocked by her powerful climax.  
  
"You fucking harridan," he snarled, "you wretched whore, filthy slattern," and she had nodded frantically. Each insult seemed to make her spine twist in delight, her juicy sex drip all the more. Pulling open his pants he let loose an erection that startled him in its girth.  
  
Brun had never been a small man, in regards to the penis department, but the throbbing pole he whipped free was so hard it hurt. He stared at the juice sliding from her sex and shook his head.  
  
Then he pulled her up on the bed and took the knife to his pyjamas. Soon they lay in tatters and he had enough cloth to lash her knees to the bed's feet.  
  
His wife was helpless. Legs akimbo, body bent over the mattress at the waist, her arms were tied behind her and perfect breasts crushed against the sheets.  
  
She was also dripping wet, so much so that he could see droplets of her fluid leaving dark marks on the sheets under her.  
  
He spanked her some more until she was moaning uselessly and then, without warning, he pulled her cunt petals apart and rammed home.  
  
It felt good to punish her, to tie her up and make her pay, and he did his very best to batter her sex with his rod. It occurred to him as she pulled against the bonds before pushing back to receive him that he had no idea what he was making her pay  _for_ , but that was all right. As long as she paid.  
  
She did. She paid willingly. When she came the second time he felt a little squirt of her cum across his balls and that sent him wild.  
  
Soon Brun was pummelling that sodden elven sex, stuffing her tunnel hard, filling her first with his pole and then his essence as his orgasm overtook him, and the scratches down her back left red marks in her skin. He roared his pleasure to the room and she, drunk on sensation and post-orgasmic bliss, lay limp and yielding below.  
  
* * * * *  
  
They talked, finally, long into that night.  
  
He confessed he had been turned on, hearing her being fucked by that elf, but terribly angry as well. She admitted she kept imagining the elf had been raping her, or that her husband might be fucking someone downstairs, and hadn't been able to stop herself climaxing.  
  
"What now?" Brun asked finally. "I don't want to hit you," he said shamefully, as if wanting to slap a woman senseless was quite normal.  
  
"Not at all..?" Her normally serene voice carried a note of disappointment she couldn't disguise.  
  
"Well... Maybe... Maybe sometimes."  
  
She grinned bashfully, working her jaw a bit. "I don't want to be hit when we're not making love, but when we are, I... I..."  
  
He watched her try to say it.  
  
She couldn't.  
  
Brun nodded. "I like the tying," he said cautiously, and was rewarded with a rapturous moan.  
  
"Ohh, yeeesssss," she whispered, "the tying is almost as good as the fucking..."  
  
"Am I a horrible man?" he asked. “For maybe liking hitting you now and then... and for wanting to tie you up?” She considered that seriously for a few long moments and then shrugged.  
  
"If you are," she grinned, sliding her arms around his waist, "then you're my horrible man, Brun Whitecleeve, and I love you for it."   
  
* * * * *  
  
Even through this blissful reawakening of their love-life it didn't take them too long to work out the danger they were in. The blood elf hadn't told them, of course he hadn't. Perhaps he'd thought it funny to defile their good natures in such a way. Perhaps he just forgot, with all the fucking, to tell them.  
  
It happened perhaps a year and a half later.  
  
Brun had gone down from the hills towards Lakeshire to get some essentials they were running low on, as he had many times. It was a beautiful sunny day and he'd very nearly convinced Aliara to go with him. She'd put her foot down at the last moment; she had felt like dressing up that day and her nicest dress was dirty.  
  
Thank the Light, too.  
  
On the way he'd heard a conversation between two traders and a footman about how the new, treacherous faction of fel-tainted elves, calling themselves 'blood elves', had forsaken their ancient ties to the Alliance of Lordaeron.  
  
It was a terrible state of affairs, the footman had said, but any green-eyed elves were to be seized at once and taken to Stormwind for questioning. If they were found to have been consuming fel energies in the manner of the blood elves they would be bartered back to the Horde or, more likely, executed.  
  
Brun hid in some bushes by the side of the road to listen. His heart was pounding hard. He had to get back. Aliara had been through so much already...  
  
The traders had gone on their way then. Brun sighed gently in relief, a feeling that changed to alarm as he realised with a very sharp pain that he'd disturbed a badger's sett - a grumpy old thing that was proceeding to express its displeasure upon his right foot for stamping so rudely at its front door.  
  
Trying to stifle a howl of pain he hopped about, lost balance, fell directly into the road.  
  
The footman peered down at him.  
  
"Brun Whitecleeve?"  
  
"Uh... Yes," he'd replied, his guts turning to ice in fear.  
  
The footman held out a gauntleted hand to help him up and the farmer had, reluctantly, accepted it. The badger hissed and growled, spitting oaths in its badgery tongue about the folly of two-legs and surveying the damage to its badgery home.  
  
"You tend the patch in the hills up yonder," the footman said carefully as the farmer brushes himself down. "Got quite the pretty wife."  
  
"Sir, I -"  
  
"Come with me, Brun," the soldier had interrupted, taking firm hold of the man's forearm, "you and I need to talk."  
  
Brun, his heart sinking, nodded and went with the footman. What else could he do? His poor Aliara... Had those nights of sweating, screaming, terrible visions and worse dreams, the predation of that heartless blood elf, had they all been for nothing?  
  
* * * * *  
  
The footman steered him up the road and away. Before long, though, they'd left the road and headed through the woods towards a little cabin. There were many little huntsman shacks around, Brun knew that, and as they approached he could see that it had been long abandoned.  
  
A 'private talk', then. Brun wondered if the bruises would show afterwards.  
  
Once inside the footman pointed to a chair. Without arguing Brun sat, stiff-backed, waiting as the soldier took his helmet off to reveal a face he recognised.  
  
"Matt... Matt Harking?"  
  
"The same, Brun." Matt's face showed a jagged scar down one side, courtesy of an orcish axe. He was in his autumn years, like Brun, but they were both tough and sturdy men. Long years of hard work had made their bodies strong.  
  
Brun said nothing. Once the two of them had been close but they'd lost touch during the last war and not seen one another since.  
  
"How is she, Brun?" Matt asked quietly, running a hand through short and thinning grey hair.  
  
"She's... Had a rough time." Brun watched his old friend cautiously. "Doing as well as she can."  
  
"Is she one of them?"  
  
"Matt, I -"  
  
"Brun. Is she."  
  
The farmer took a deep breath, held it, and nodded. He sat up a little straighter as Matt let out a weary sigh.  
  
"It's not like that, Matt, it's more complex -"  
  
"How." The footman stood with both gauntleted fists on the table. "Try me. Tell me. Make it make sense, Brun, please. Aliara? Her, joining the enemy?"  
  
"Nonono, she hasn't!" The farmer shook his head frantically and before he knew it he was telling the man everything.  
  
Every little humiliating detail, each tiny secret and shameful point, tumbled from the farmer's panicked mouth. Through it all Matt stood in the same pose, watching Brun, listening.  
  
It took a long time to tell but eventually it was out. The sordid story was done.  
  
Silence reigned and Brun, who had lowered his head halfway through, didn't lift it as he heard the other chair scrape over the wooden floor, creaked as the armoured soldier sat.  
  
"I see." More silence. "Well, fuck. That's not covered in training." Brun shook his head and looked up, eyes glimmering with tears.  
  
"What should I do, Matt?" he implored.  
  
The soldier considered it for a long while. That was one of the most painful waits in Brun's life. His darling wife's life was, once again, in someone else's hands.  
  
"You should definitely tie her up again."  
  
Brun blinked. Matt grinned.  
  
"I'm serious."  
  
"Me too, one of the women in my company adores being spanked. She's got a thing for collars and leashes, too -"  
  
"Matt!"  
  
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Look, it's a puzzler, old mate. Is she the same Aliara?"  
  
"I... Yes," Brun replied, despairing again as Matt shook his head, spotting the lie.  
  
"No, she's not, is she." It wasn't really a question. "She's sharper-tongued, quicker to bite back, strangely compelling but a bit shorter in temper." The soldier let out a regretful sigh as the farmer nodded. He'd hit the nail on the head, named all those little things Brun had noticed, the small changes in his wife's general attitude since her eyes had gone green. "Ah, see, that's the fel. The same, but different. But she's not," Matt added as he leaned forward, "a traitor?"  
  
"No!" Brun was vehement, adamant. His friend nodded.  
  
"Go home, Brun," he advised, "and get the hell out of here. Move her somewhere safe. The commander's going to start ordering sweeps of the hills to flush out some orcs that've been giving us troubles, and that patch is on the list."  
  
For a long time Brun said nothing. There was logic in the man's words but one thing bothered him.  
  
"We have nowhere to go, Matt. Her family's dead - or worse. Mine were dead before she and I met."  
  
"Mmm." Matt nodded. "Shit." He watched his friend as he thought and when he spoke it was cautiously, as if he'd thought of a solution but didn't like it. "Go and pack. I'll come to see you in two days. I'll organise a cart and someone to help - you said she's got one of those accursed crystals, we'll see what we can do after that."  
  
The farmer stood immediately and nodded. "Thank you, Matt." They shook hands. "Thank the Light for you."  
  
Matt shook his head and ran a fingertip down the scar on his face. "Remember this? You found me dying of infection, damn orcs sliced me up like bacon..."  
  
Brun winced and nodded. They'd been younger then, he and Aliara not long married.  
  
"You two saved my life once. Time for me to repay that."   
  
* * * * *  
  
They moved in secret. They had no home now, only a few friends, and Brun didn't begrudge the kiss Aliara gave the soldier when Matt turned up with a small cart, filled with hay and with a oil-cloth cover, for them to use.  
  
It was a long kiss, lingering and sweet, but Brun didn't mind. A lot of his priorities in life were shifting, and besides, it made him grin to see the armoured man glance guiltily at the farmer, as if expecting swift husband wrath at any time.  
  
Away they went, under the shroud of night, with the footman as their escort and Aliara safely hidden in the hay under the cart's cover. It was a long trip, tremendously long, and the three of them spoke softly as they travelled.  
  
Matt told of the things he'd seen both at home and abroad. The campaign against the Horde was troubled, neither side seeming capable of a decisive victory, and the truces declared were tenuous at best. Nonetheless the orcs and their allies seemed here to stay.  
  
He told them of the terrible stories he'd heard from soldiers coming back through the Dark Portal. The Legion was alive and well. All the tales of horror made Brun blanch and Aliara sob softly, weeping for the loss of her folk and that of the people of her husband and friend.  
  
“If we'd found you,” Matt said softly, “maybe things would be different. Maybe we'd have found a way of keeping you away from fel, and you'd be welcome in Alliance lands.”  
  
“I'm sorry, love,” Brun whispered, “I should have gone to town. I should have -”  
  
“No,” Aliara said, her hand resting on Brun's from beneath the hay, her glowing green eyes just visible. “We made our choices, and I'm just glad we're still with one another. This... demon-energy might have made things hard but it worked.”  
  
“Quieten down,” Matt warned, “we're coming up to Stormwind.”  
  
Stormwind. Brun had never hated the sight of it so much. He was always a cautious fellow, loved wide spaces and fresh air, but now... The place was a pit made with stone walls, filled with hostile snakes that would kill his Aliara as soon as look at her. As the cart rolled up he felt a knot of fear form in his belly.  
  
Matt hailed the guards and nobody bothered checking the cart. The footman was known here, even respected, a veteran of many conflicts. Through the entrance and along that wide walkway between imposing statues they went. The patient draught horse pulling the cart didn't stop or hesitate, heading past guard and citizen alike.  
  
Brun chatted cheerily to Matt as they moved through. All an act, all a lie. Just a pair of old boys talking about old times, moving a cart full of hay for some stupid reason that nobody asked them for. The farmer might not be the most familiar with intrigue but he'd expected at least someone to have asked.  
  
They stopped not far into the town and Matt got down. “Wait here,” he said in a low tone, just enough for both Brun and Aliara to hear. The he went into a small house.  
  
That knot of fear grew worse as they waited. Brun tried to look casual, tried not to meet anyone's eye, but the strangest of people kept walking past. Humans were still the majority, of course, but the farmer wondered privately how long that would be the case.  
  
Night elves went by riding sleek, powerful cats. Gnomes and dwarves chatted on their way through the streets. Even at night the city bustled. Brun pulled his cloak around him a little more tightly. He longed to say something to his wife, to reassure her, but he dared not for fear of betraying her existence.  
  
The house door opened and Matt emerged, a curved human woman behind. She was dressed in something that could only be described as provocative, cut to show off her body, and she climbed up into the back of the cart after giving Brun a wink. Her hair was short, cut to frame her beautiful face, a brilliant red that couldn't possibly be natural.  
  
“Brun, this is Hollyanne.” Matt climbed into the driver's seat. “She's coming with us a little way to help guard our cargo.”  
  
Brun's eyes widened as Hollyanne settled down right next to the hidden elf. She nodded casually and patted the cover she sat on, about where Aliara's hip would have been.  
  
“Nice to meet you, Brun, and nice to meet your cargo,” the woman said. She smiles a wide, pretty smile that made Brun think of his wife bobbing her head up and down, lips fastened around his cock. Hollyanne's eyes twinkled with mirth as the farmer shifted in his seat, body treacherously reacting to this somehow distinctly sexual woman, as he mumbled an awkward greeting.  
  
They didn't really talk as the four of them went through the city. Now and then, though, Brun saw a long-eared, exotic night elf pause in his or her steps, glance towards the cart and carefully hide a look of disgust.  
  
Hollyanne seemed to revel in the attention, relaxing on her side. “Some night elves don't tend to like me,” she purred in response to the farmer's puzzled expression, running a fingertip lightly over Brun's forearm. “I'm a warlock, you see... The smell of fel energy tends to offend druids. And they can sense it quite a way away if they're powerful enough.”  
  
 _So that's why you're here,_  Brun thought.  _Fel-tainted hay_ would  _be hard to explain..._  
  
“Not that I mind,” the warlock continued, still running her fingertip over Brun's arm. “You'd be surprised how many of them still come calling.” That hand lowered, then, to run over the cover. On the edge of his hearing he heard Aliara gasp softly.  
  
“C-come... Come calling?”  
  
“Mmm.” Hollyanne ran her hand over another curve, one that looked like it might be one of the elf's breasts, and Brun saw the covers shift very slightly. “I provide a... service to interested parties, those who like to be treated... sternly. Or even downright unfairly.”  
  
To anyone looking on the warlock probably seemed to be picking at the oilskin cover absently as she watched Brun, her expression obviously seductive. Those clever fingers, though, had found something worth picking at and the farmer heard his captive wife give a very soft whimper as first one nipple was teased to a hard point, then the other.  
  
Brun's face burned and his cock ached. Matt carefully kept his eyes on the road ahead.  
  
“How do you know each other?” the farmer asked, voice surprisingly calm, much more calm than he felt. His eyes slid over those lips as they smiled again, lips that he desperately wanted to hold open and fuck.  
  
“Oh, Matt is an old flame of mine,” Hollyanne giggled, running her fingers in small circles. “We broke up because I was cheating on him with three boys and a girl.”  
  
Brun swallowed and looked at the footman who, in the safety of his helm, nodded very slightly. He stared at the woman toying with his wife. “Why did you do that?”  
  
“Because I like to,” Hollyanne said with a bright smile. “I like fucking. I love it. Matt was idealistic and only wanted one lover.”  
  
“Is there something wrong with that?” Brun asked, perhaps a bit defensively.  
  
“No, not at all – unless you're me.” She winked. “I made a mistake. Many mistakes. Getting caught, for example. I  _did_ love your friend, Brun. Very much... I just didn't love him more than I loved being fucked by three boys at once.”  
  
“We both made our choices,” Matt said softly. “I understood yours.”  
  
“And I yours. In another life I'd have been faithful to you to the end, Matt.” Hollyanne shrugged. “Just not this one. And it hasn't stopped you visiting.”  
  
They rode on in silence for a while. Brun didn't comment. What does a man say to something like that? So instead of conversation the only noises were those of the street, the horse's hooves and the cart's creaking – punctuated now and then by a soft gasp from the blood elf trapped helplessly below the cart's cover, her body at the mercy of Matt's lascivious ex-lover.   
  
* * * * *  
  
The footman took them through Stormwind to the Dwarven District. Bellows and hammers sounded well before they reached it and Brun was able to ignore the woman in the cart behind him for a while. To pretend to, at least.  
  
There was little need for Hollyanne there, the smell of molten iron, sulphur and coal covering most other scents. The warlock didn't seem to notice but Brun, eventually, had to cover his mouth with his sleeve to stop himself from coughing.  
  
From there they went through the round, wide entrance to the gnomes' greatest single contribution to Stormwind City – the Deeprun Tram.  
  
It was incredible. Brun felt like he'd entered an entirely new world. The horse wouldn't go through, of course, so the men wheeled the cart onto one of the strange carriages when they arrived with a deafening screech. There were no other passengers and when the tram leapt off from the platform towards its destination Brun stood between Hollyanne and Matt, gripping the cart to stop it rolling about.  
  
The warlock took advantage of the situation to rub her hand over the increasingly rampant bulge in the front of Brun's pants. Matt ignored the matter as best he could, of course, and Brun decided he would too.  
  
She made the trip a delicious hell. Every time Brun thought he was on the verge of release she stopped, and just when he thought she was disinterested she began rubbing again, first over the cloth and then under it, sliding her hand down the front of Brun's pants.  
  
The farmer could never work out, later, if the final platform arrived too slowly or too quickly. As it approached, though, Hollyanne stopped altogether and stood by demurely as Brun and Matt struggled with the wagon. Brun's cock ached and he spotted a couple of dwarven women staring at the obvious bulge in his pants as they went past, wheeling the cart out of the station and into Ironforge.  
  
Matt directed them out of Tinker Town, the gnomes alternately staring at and ignoring Brun's state of arousal. It was impossible for them to miss, after all, being at the perfect height. One gnome woman couldn't stop staring, and giggling as well, making it very difficult to get directions. She kept mispronouncing his name, too, calling him Bone instead of Brun.  
  
Finally, though, the woman agreed to guide them through the city. Her name, she said between giggles, was Lacey Goodwrench. Her face was friendly and round, her jade-coloured hair tied up in a pair of buns. She must have been in a hurry when she did her hair, though, because strands hung about her freckled nose.  
  
Brun was quietly surprised by how curvy the little woman was. He'd only met a couple of gnomes before, most of them male, and the one female he'd met was nowhere near as voluptuous as Lacey Goodwrench.  
  
“It's a big biiiig city,” she said, glancing yet again at Brun's crotch, though she seemed rather disappointed to find that the embarrassment had rather made him lose his stiffness. “People come from all over for all sorts of reasons. You're going to start a farm? With hay? We've got hay in Dun Morogh, why're you wheeling hay through?”  
  
 _And there we are,_  Brun thought,  _the very question._  
  
“Brun is moving much of his possessions,” Hollyanne said smoothly, leaning over a little to stage-whisper conspiratorially to the gnome, “and the most valuable of them is hidden in the hay.”  
  
“Oooooh,” Lacey breathed, “that sounds like such fun...” The gnome bounced about next to the nervous-looking human. “I wish I was moving. It's so dull in Ironforge a lot of the time, especially now my boyfriend's left me.”  
  
“Oh,” Brun said softly, giving her a sympathetic look, “that's sad! Why did he leave?”  
  
“I smacked him in the face with a hammer because I got sick of him beating me.”  
  
There was a long pause. All three humans stopped moving and looked down at Lacey. The little wide-eyed woman looked back up quite seriously, brushing some of her green hair out of the way.  
  
“Good on you,” Matt said firmly, “good on you.”  
  
Lacey shrugged and they all started moving again. “Being smacked about for fun is one thing. I don't really like it but some people do. But he knows a priest, see, and he'd have the priest come in and fix me up afterwards so nobody knew.” She blushed a little. “Felt good breaking his nose, though.”  
  
“I'd have broken a lot more than his nose,” Hollyanne commented. “Is he still around here? I could have him squealing to be thrown into the Great Forge within a day if you like.”  
  
“Uh.” Lacey gave the warlock a strange look and then a thoughtful one. Finally she shook her head, green hair flapping about her face. “No, that's fine. He's out of the picture and I've made some, uhm... friends. In Stormwind.” She nodded and gave them a follow-me wave.  
  
* * * * *  
  
The building she directed them to had a pair of rams outside tethered to a trough. They watched the coming procession with the flat disinterested stare of animals that really don't care what these strange two-legged things were up to as long as they had fresh food. Brun and Matt brought the cart to a halt well away from them.  
  
Lacey bounced inside and, with only a short pause in which the others heard a squeal of excited greeting and a bit of small-talk, the gnome came back outside in the company of a grizzled old dwarven man.  
  
“This is Hark Hammerfist! Hark, that's Matt in the armour, Hollyanne over there with the flamey hair and the boobs, and Brun, he's the one that's moving, but they had to leave their horse in Stormwind City.” Lacey shifted about from foot to foot looking excited.  
  
“Oh aye,” the dwarf said dubiously, looking the taller folk over suspiciously, looking them over and carefully verifying that Hollyanne did, indeed, have the appearance that Lacey claimed.  
  
His beard was grey and long, arms powerful and thick with muscle. They could see the scars and marks of an old experienced blacksmith over his skin as he shook them by the hands one after another. “An' ye be lookin' fer a beast o'burden, aye?”  
  
“Yes, please,” Brun said softly, still wide-eyed from the sights of the city around them. He'd never been to Ironforge. He'd only been to Stormwind a handful of times.  
  
“Polite, eh?” Hark grinned at the farmer. “I like polite, ain't enough o'polite about, ye ken.” He tossed the human a see-what-I-mean? look as Hollyanne made a small scoffing noise.  
  
“I'm afraid I can't pay much,” the farmer admitted, “not even to rent a ram for a few hours. I don't own a great deal, but I'll pay what I can.”  
  
“I can pay,” the warlock purred, “I'm well-off enough.” The grin she turned on Brun was nothing short of predatory. “You can pay me back.”  
  
Hark looked for a moment like he might refuse purely on the principle of not wanting to take the warlock's money. Something about the woman clearly unnerved the dwarf; he knew trouble when it walked in the door. Eventually, though, he nodded, the deal was struck and Hollyanne handed over a small pouch of gold pieces to the old blacksmith.  
  
It took them a little while to get the beast fastened. The cart wasn't really made for rams but between Hark and his gnomish friend they managed to improvise enough to make it all work. Then, with Lacey managing the reins this time and Brun in the seat next to her, with Hollyanne and Matt in the back, they continued on.  
  
Behind them Hark shook his old head and went back inside. “What that lass is getting' 'erself mixed up in,” he muttered as he sat down by the fireplace and reached for his mug of ale again. “'Boobs,' indeed...”   
  
* * * * *  
  
Through the streets and out the front gate of Ironforge they went, the almost stifling heat of the city giving way with an icy blast to the chill Dun Morogh wind. Hollyanne felt it the worst, cuddling up to Matt and sharing the footman's cloak as her outfit proved less than suitable for the weather.  
  
Lacey chatted amiably with Brun the whole way. Unlike many gnomes she clearly knew the value of listening, her wide green eyes watching the road intently as Brun replied to her many questions about farming, human life, Stormwind City – which he couldn't tell her much about – and so on.  
  
Now and then Brun noticed the diminutive woman glance at his lap. He flushed with embarrassment but something about the looks made him feel secretly happy. He wasn't an ugly man by any stretch of the imagination but neither was he a stunner, and the attention was not only flattering but a little... arousing.  
  
“It's nice out here, it's like Winter Veil all year round,” Lacey said, “only there can be troubles with wolves and cats and troggs and pigs. Do you like roast pork, Bone? Uh, Brun,” she corrected herself, blushing brightly. She hadn't made that mistake in a while but now that the farmer's interest was becoming a little more visible the gnome suddenly found herself distracted.  
  
“Pork is nice,” Brun said mildly. He shifted in the seat. That hardening rod was becoming uncomfortable. Lacey's glances became more frequent and he saw her lick her lips unconsciously. Part of him thought that was a bit odd, as from what he'd heard gnomes usually didn't have any more attraction to humans than vice versa, and he wondered about the private life of Lacey Goodwrench, the stories she might have to tell.  
  
Of course that only made his arousal worse. Or better, depending on your view. Probably better, considering Lacey's view.  
  
The cart rolled on, the ram ignoring the talking in the cart, the crackle of flame as Hollyanne incinerated a pair of wolves who decided mutton was on the menu, even the weather as it turned colder still and snow began to fall. Out along one of the roads they went, a long way, Lacey following Matt's directions easily and competently.  
  
Finally Matt had the gnome draw the cart to a halt. “There, by that tree. There's a path leading up into the mountains that should just be wide enough for the cart.”  
  
Surely enough there was. It was a near thing, though, and Lacey had to take it very slow to avoid the wheels getting stuck in rocks alongside the trail.  
“How do you know about this place, Matt?” Hollyanne asked. Brun nodded as well. He'd been wondering the same thing.  
  
“A friend of mine, a dwarf, told me about it before a battle we were both in. She said it was her haven and if she didn't survive the fight she was giving it to me,” the footman said with a heavy sigh. “She didn't. A troll took her out in the first two minutes, arrow straight through the eye. She was a fine lady.”  
  
“Are you sure -”  
  
“I owe you a debt, remember,” Matt grinned, cutting off Brun's rather predictable question. “And I'll never have the chance to use it, live in it. Too much to do, and I'm not in Dun Morogh that often.”  
  
The farmer reached back to rest a hand on his friend's shoulder in thanks. Hollyanne, meanwhile, continued huddling under Matt's cloak and running her hand over a particular section of the oilskin cover.  
  
“Isn't it weird,” Lacey piped up suddenly, “how the wind through the trees up here sounds a bit like sighing? Oh, it's stopped.” She looked about, giving Hollyanne's sudden grin a puzzled look, and then they rounded a corner.  
  
The little home was dwarven-style, mostly set back in the rock of a cliff, only a small porch visible. There was a small yard and the whole thing was nestled in the peaks, quite hidden, much to Brun's delight.  
  
“Oooh,” Lacey cooed, smiling widely. “It's cute!” She drew the ram up and hopped down from the cart nimbly to tether the beast to a cunningly-wrought hitching post near the house, its top fashioned in the shape of a ram's head holding a ring in its mouth.  
  
Matt went inside with Hollyanne to get the fire started. Brun, on the other hand, loitered near the cart, shifting from foot to foot nervously.  
  
Lacey looked about the yard and then peered through the door. Seeing the other two humans occupied she then hurried over to Brun, looking up at him curiously.  
  
“Uhm... Thank you for driving,” the farmer said, voice tense with worry.”  
  
“That's okay,” the gnome replied cheerily. “Who's in the cart?”  
  
The farmer went pale. “Uh... What?”  
  
Lacey gave him a look and then hopped up onto the back of the cart. For a moment Brun thought she was going to search it but instead she just sat there next to him.  
  
“I'm not stupid, you know,” she said without any malice, “a lot of people see how short we are and think we're like human children, but we're not. We're a lot smarter than people think. You told Hark you don't own much but Hollyanne said your riches were hidden in the cart.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “It's too light to be a chest, the cart would've moved about differently. So I figure, romantic guy like you, what's the one thing he'd prize above everything?”  
  
Brun stuttered, eyes wide with panic, and then hung his head. “My wife,” he whispered, and he heard Aliara stir. “She's...”  
  
“Brun, can I come out? Please?”  
  
Lacey's eyes went wide as the farmer started untying the oilskin cover. They went wider when Aliara sat up, and the little woman actually jumped down from the cart and backed off as the realisation of what she was looking at hit her.  
  
“B-blood elf!”  
  
“It's all right, Lacey,” Matt called, coming out of the house. Behind him Hollyanne made an appreciative sound, a hand on her hip.  
  
“Very tasty,” the warlock muttered, and the blood elf dropped her gaze, flushing.  
  
“ _What in the name of Mekkatorque's metal nutsack is going on?”_  Lacey demanded, pointing first at Brun, then Aliara, then the other two humans.  
  
“We've got the fire going and there's ale in storage,” the footman said in a tired voice. “Come in and let us explain.”  
  
* * * * *  
  
“Well, that's fucked up.”  
  
Lacey plonked her empty tankard down on the small table. She looked Aliara over and while it wasn't precisely a trustful glance it was by far less hostile, more than a little glimmer of sympathy showing in her expression.  
  
She'd been told the whole story. It was the first time Hollyanne had heard it too, and when that baneful fel-crystal was produced she said that she might know a way of recharging it.  
  
Brun sat with Aliara in his arms. The elf didn't really look at anybody, gaze focussed on the flames in the hearth nearby. Hollyanne's eyes roamed from person to person, calculating and shrewd, but eventually she stood up.  
  
“It is. But we should go and let the couple settle themselves.” She held out her hand for Matt, who took it after a reluctant pause, standing beside her. “I'll let you pay me back later, Brun.” The smile the warlock gave him left no doubt as to what sort of payment she'd be collecting.  
  
The farmer nodded and also stood. “Thank you, friends. I... We'd have been lost without you.” He looks about the small company. “All of you.”  
  
“Oh, shut up,” Hollyanne said, rolling her eyes, “such drivel. I did it because I'm getting paid.” Nonetheless the hug she gave first Brun and then Aliara seemed to imply the human might be lying a little.  
  
“Well, I like you,” Lacey stated, hugging Brun around the waist. Then, after a hesitant pause, she hugged Aliara as well, who knelt down to return it better.  
  
“Thank you,” the elf whispered in the gnome's ear. “Please, I hope you come and visit some time.”  
  
“Sure will,” the gnome nodded firmly, the gesture seeming to make her mind up about the unintentional blood elf. “Definitely.”  
  
Matt shook Brun's hand and hugged Aliara and then, it seemed, they were ready to go.  
  
The two waved goodbye to their companions as the trio vanished down the slope. They'd taken the cart, as it made no sense to walk the whole way back, and the soft noises of the mountains closed in.  
  
Then, without much else to do, they went back inside.   
  
* * * * *  
  
The next morning saw Aliara tied to the hitching post outside. Brun had fashioned her a collar and tied it close to the low post with a leather thong, the woman's arms tied behind her. The position forced her to bend at the waist; she'd have been more comfortable kneeling down but Brun had made it clear that wasn't allowed.  
  
Every time her backside lowered even a little the farmer would smack it, first with his broad hand and then with a riding crop they'd brought with them for the horse. Aliara's flesh was pink and marked before too long and her sex glistened in the chill morning air.  
  
She was mostly clothed, still, wearing a winter robe with the skirt pulled up around her waist, long socks that came up to her knees and warm mid-calf leather boots. Her underwear was pulled down to mid-thigh and the hood of her cloak covered her head and hid her flushed face as she gasped and quivered.  
  
He ran a hand over the curve of her back, then around to her cloth-covered breasts, squeezing and pinching the nipples as his palms explored the weight of them. As of yet he hadn't touched her pussy. Moving the crop about he placed its length against her lips and she tilted her head in nervous, skittish confusion.  
  
After a few moments her lips pursed in a kiss over the leather but this only brought a smack from the crop across her buttocks. The leather loop made a sharp cracking sound on her soft flesh and then he was pressing the crop against her lips.  
  
He didn't tell her what to do, gave her no verbal instruction, but this time she guessed right, opening her mouth to bite down, holding the crop for Brun.  
  
“Good girl,” he murmured, “only one for the mistake.” His heavy hand raised and then dropped, planting a slap across one buttock with a force that made her squeal around the crop. She didn't drop it, though, and he nodded his approval as he pulled the front ties of her robe open and then eased her breasts out into the cold air one by one.  
  
They were fine breasts, magnificent orbs of generous elven flesh, and he loved to play with them. Her nipples were already hard from the teasing and spanking but the chill air made them tense even more, almost painfully so. Nonetheless he tweaked and pulled them, making her spine arch and shift with the intensity.  
  
“I think these need piercing,” the farmer said after a few moments of thought, and then nods. “Yes. Little rings that can be pulled.” She moaned at the suggestion but didn't dare not in agreement; the last time she'd done that he'd smacked her ass to a red, rosy glow, and while she'd loved it right now Aliara figured she'd go mad if she was spanked too much more.  
  
Even as this thought ran through her head her legs began to shake, the muscles trembling, as she felt his fingers slide – finally! – over her sodden cunt. The farmer swore at the feeling and Aliara let out a low, guttural, hungry moan.  
  
The crop fell into the snow with a soft plop and the elf froze suddenly, expecting sexy retribution, wanting it but dreading it at the same time, but he hadn't seem to notice. Her fingers tightened, clenching into fists behind her, arms straining at their bindings but he'd tied her far too well.  
  
It didn't take long for him to bring her almost to climax. She was already very close and a few mere flicks over her swollen clit had her writhing and squealing in desperate need. She let out a thin keen of distress as he stopped, letting go of her entirely, letting her settle and cool before playing with her again.  
  
“I think it'd be best if we got this pierced too,” Brun commented, pulling lightly at her clit hood before dipping two fingers into her burning sex. “Just to be sure.” To be sure of what wasn't clear and he didn't explain, angling those fingers down to press the tips insistently at her g-spot. It was swollen, plush and very sensitive.  
  
Aliara groaned long and low, a needy and hungry sound, shameless in her lust. Shifting a little on her feet she raised her backside as much as she could, presenting herself to him, needing him. “P-please... Brun, please, I need to cum...” Her soft, beautiful voice was a whisper on the wind of her moans.  
  
“I don't know, you dropped the crop...”  
  
“Brun, pleeease!”  
  
With a wide grin he slipped his thumb over her slick clit, rolling it about as those two fingers tickled and teased her sweet centre. “Is that it? Is that what you want?”  
  
“F-f-fuck me,” she begged, “Light, please Brun, I n-need you in me!”  
  
Finally the farmer relented. His wife was a good woman, after all, even if she had turned into a green-eyed cock slut. She was still his cock slut. And so he pulled his pants open and released that huge pole which had been straining to get out for hours. They hadn't made love last night, they'd both been far too tired, so the last woman to touch him had been Hollyanne.  
  
 _Hollyanne..._  
  
He really wished the warlock had finished him off. He'd almost grabbed her and fucked her, right in front of Matt, there on the tram. He was glad he hadn't and not, he realised, because she wasn't Aliara. Instead he was glad because now, when the two met again, Brun would have a reason to seize the upper hand and find out if the woman could take it as well as give it.  
  
“Maybe I should ask Hollyanne over,” he purred in the elf's ear, “make you watch us fuck. You'd like that, wouldn't you?” Aliara whispered something and nodded but Brun wasn't letting her off easily. “Speak up.” He rubbed the head of his cock over her soaked entrance, nudging at her labia and clit with the plush glans.  
  
“Yes, fuck, yes,” the elf whimpered, holding very still, rising onto her tippy-toes in anticipation. “I'd love it, it's making me burn j-just... Thinking ab-”  
  
Her words were cut off in a squeal as he plunged into her, hilting quick and hard, hands wrapping around her hips. One hand lifted to tug on a section of the rope tying her arms and the main knot holding the bindings slipped, freeing those limbs. They came around quickly, slightly numb fingers wrapping around the hitching post, and Aliara held on for dear life as Brun fucked her.  
  
Powerfully he thrust, ramming into his wife, his cock throbbing and hard. Her walls were parted as blow by blow he fucked her towards climax. She felt tremendously hot around him, as if her lust had turned her into molten metal, and the pendulous balls hanging below smacked her clit every time he hit home.  
  
She squealed in pleasure, gasping and pushing back into his thrusts as her orgasm drew close, loomed and finally struck her hard. Aliara's pussy clamped down suddenly on his rod and he let out a snarling grimace of primal hunger, one hand holding her hip and the other running up to snag in her hair. As her juices burst from her in a gout of joy she let out a wildcat scream, the sound echoing off the mountaintops, dissolving into a whimpering, pleading moan as he kept on going.  
  
More he gave her, and more, pounding her deep as she came, fucking her determinedly all the way through her orgasm. That hand in her hair tugged, pulled, holding her still as he buried his shaft in her depths over and again.  
  
She kept her pose as best she could once the writhing of her peak simmered down. Hands clasped around the hitching post, back bowed and backside raised, her legs trembled with the effort of standing. If he weren't fucking her so deeply, holding her so tightly, she'd likely have fallen. Her rounded breasts bounced hard with every unforgiving stroke of his pole.  
  
He could feel it rise, feel the pleasure build rapidly, and he did nothing to stop it. Her pussy clenched and tightened around him pole as he worked quickly towards his orgasm. Harder and harder, it had to hurt her a bit but nothing came out of her mouth except hot breath and husky encouragement.  
  
“More... M-more, fuck, yes, fuck it,” she demanded, not the most imaginative of instructions but certainly to the point. “F-fuck... Your slutty wife's dirty... Cuhuuunnt...” That last word merged with a whimpering moan as she felt him swell, slam home and burst into climax within her. His seed splashed deep, as deep as possible, cock pulsing as it emptied his thick, stringy cum into her.  
  
Her own knees almost gave way before her legs tightened hard, his pleasure and loud groan triggering her own again. Though much smaller, spikes of pleasure coming erratically, she nonetheless was dragged through another orgasm by his bulging, throbbing manhood.  
  
Aliara could feel it inside her, hot and thick, and when he pulled out the seed dripped from her sex down onto her quivering thighs and the snow below.  
  
Brun untied her collar from the post once they recovered, kissing her and carrying her inside, laying her tenderly on the bed. There they stripped naked, fondled, cuddled and slept. When they woke they talked, as people do, of completely normal things – how much the area could produce, how often Brun would need to collect supplies, and so on.   
  
* * * * *  
  
Two full weeks went by like this. Lacey visited twice in that time, bringing them bread from Ironforge and helping them around the farm. She still called the farmer Bone but it was less of an accident and more of a joke.  
  
Apart from the gnome, though, they saw nobody. Each morning saw Aliara tied to something, having her body spanked to the edge of delirium and then fucked the rest of the way. Every night the two would make slow, warm love in their bed, the elf gagged and bound, the human ploughing her field deeply. Now and then they even made love without the tying and spanking, taking simple pleasure in each other.  
  
And then  _they_ came.  
  
 _Them._  
  
He didn't know how long it had been since all this began. Four years? Five? The two had been dropped from the frying pan into the fire more times than Brun cared to think about.  
  
But he knew for a fact that it had been two weeks since they reached their new home.  
  
It felt safe, that place in the mountains, their little Dun Morogh home. Aliara couldn't leave, of course, and felt like the place was a prison sometimes but they took solace in one another.  
  
Brun didn't really consider that anything might be wrong, then, when he heard hoofbeats outside one evening. Just Lacey, likely, maybe with Matt or Hollyanne.  
  
The farmer was left stunned and speechless when he found a pair of breasts staring him in the face.  
  
They were damn fine breasts and having them at eye height didn't injure their case. Pert and yet full, encased in a tabard he didn't recognise, they seemed thrust forward as if in offer and Brun blinked in confusion at them a moment.  
  
A polite cough came from the owner of those remarkable mammaries and he looked up into a strange, almost alien face. It was a lovely face, wondrously proportioned and blessed with fine almond-shaped eyes that glowed a soft white. It was a female face, appropriately enough, and she smiled in a friendly way with lips of surpassing loveliness.  
  
He wasn't a stupid man, though, and he didn't miss those fangs. The sky-blue skin and sweeping horns were a bit alarming, too, not to mention the slender tendrils hanging down from behind each pointed ear.  
  
Lacey had told the pair about the draenei so when Brun inevitably looked down he wasn't entirely surprised to see legs that bent oddly, cloven hooves instead of feet or boots. The slender tail waving behind her curved backside startled him a little - he thought it would have been thicker and longer.  
  
She looked... Strange. Strange but somehow glorious. They weren't demons, Lacey had said, and Brun was familiar enough now with the feel of fel to be able to tell that. He could see how people might have originally made that mistake, though.  
  
Behind her was another, a male, and he boggled a little at the size of the creature. The woman was tall but the man was a giant, a stunningly white-fleshed wall of muscle, like an upside-down armour-plated pyramid on goatish legs. His tail was plated and quite thick, far more stiff than hers, his hooves much heavier.  
  
He was tending to the beasts that had brought them. They were strange creatures that had big, flapping ears, huge tusks and long snouts, and they seemed built on a larger scale than everything else, much like their owners.  
  
Draenei... They were Light-worshippers, had some kind of innate healing ability, venerated strange creatures called naaru... And they were Alliance members now.  
  
There was something else about them, too, wasn't there? Oh, that's right. They hated blood elves.  
  
Panic gripped him and he blinked stupidly at the woman as she spoke.  
  
"Er, pardon?" he asked, voice squeaky and high with fear.  
  
"I said," the woman repeated with a look of curiosity on her face, "I was wondering if you might help us. We are new to dese parts and were on patrol when we were separated from our fellows. Are you all right?"  
  
"Yes!" It came out too loud, too quick, and he winced a little to hear it. "Uh... Patrol? Uh..."  
  
The male plodded up with an odd bouncing gait. With alarm the human recognised, amongst the alien symbolism, emblems of the Silver Hand - he must be a paladin. The woman, though, was dressed in a robe and carried a staff topped in a large green crystal.  
  
"Are you in distress?" he asked, looking about suspiciously. "Dere is a strange feeling about dis place..." He broke off as footsteps in the little house approached from behind the farmer and he heard his wife's beautiful, innocent voice.  
  
"Who is it, Brun?"  
  
 _Oh, no..._  
  
There was a surreal pause as time seemed to stop, Aliara staring at the strangers, them taking in her appearance with eyes wide with shock, and then all hell broke loose.  
  
The male slammed his way into the house, knocking both Brun and Aliara back. The slender elf fell to the floor with a shriek of terror. The huge draenei wasted no time watching her fall. He may have left his mace outside but his fists served perfectly as clubs.  
  
One sharp punch to the face knocked Brun back but he sprang up again. Tears stung his eyes from the blow and he knew his nose was broken but that didn't matter to him. Nothing mattered but Aliara.  
  
Over he leapt, striking the draenei in the stomach as the huge white thing leaned over his wife, pulling her up by the throat. She clawed desperately at the massive hand, kicked out as her feet left the floor, but she was no warrior, no mage, just a housewife.  
  
A housewife who was being throttled to death.  
  
"Nooooo!" Brun went wild, beating the man's ribs, grabbing his hair, his horns, pulling with all his might. The draenei let out a snarl and backhanded the farmer across the room, following the human even as he tumbled through space to strike a wall.  
  
Tough, white muscle wrapped around his neck as the draenei got him in a chokehold that Brun suspected could turn into a lethal snap of the neck at any second.. He let out a shout of fear and struggled, desperately trying to reach his wife even as black spots began to swim in front of his vision.  
  
"Leave her be," he sobbed, "please, Aliara, please..." His voice was cut short as that arm cut off his breath, the other fist ramming like a mace into his side. He felt ribs break and let out a gurgle.  
  
"Brun!" Aliara's voice was a mere croak as she, too, struggled, the draenei woman having caught her arms and locked them behind her. "Let my Brun go, let him go..."  
  
"Silence, witch," the draenei snarled, "your spells won't work here."  
  
"K-kill me," the elf whispered weakly, "turn me over, anything, I'll do anything..."  
  
Brun let out another gasp, blood running from his broken nose. He couldn't hear any more from the pounding in his head and he writhed weakly, uselessly, still trying to reach her when his world went from dull red to black.   
  
* * * * *  
  
Voices roused him, voices speaking in that strange tongue, arguing. He couldn't understand a word of it but it sounded like the woman was pleading with the man. For what? Their freedom? Their lives? Permission to kill them both?  
  
His head pounded. His jaw ached. His ribs screamed. He couldn't move. After his eyes agreed to start focussing again he looked about. Tied, tied to a stout chair.  
  
Looking painfully over his shoulder he saw another chair behind with Aliara tied to it, slumped but alive, and his heart leapt with joy.  
  
The draenei both looked over, saw he was awake, went back to their argument. At one point the male barked at the female, who threw a tense salute and fell silent.  
  
Military, then, a superior officer and his subordinate.  
  
After a long pause the male finally bowed his horned head in a nod. He looked very angry but, it seemed, something the woman had said had struck a chord. She bowed with significantly more respect than her salute had shown and clopped over on those cloven but somehow feminine hooves.  
  
"Please be still," she murmured in Common, laying a hand on his shoulder and concentrating. Healing energy flooded his body and he felt his bones knit back together.  
  
He'd once been in an accident involving a runaway horse and a plough when he was a strapping young lad, and his arm - maybe his life - had been saved by a pretty young priestess. The feeling of Light flooding his body had been incredible but this was different, primal, wild.  
  
He tried to speak as his breath came easier but it was muffled. With a shock he realised he was wearing a leather ball gag, and that meant that unless they'd brought light bondage equipment with them that the two strangers had found... Everything.  
  
"My corporal believes dat dere may be more to de two of you dan meets de eye," the male rumbled. "You can t'ank her for your life, and de life of dis...  _Filth._ " He snarled this last word at Aliara.  
  
"I am Corporal Venya, dis is Captain Torak," the woman said, running her hands over his ribs, shoulders, neck. She appeared to be looking for damage. His arm was already healed but he had a deep bone ache there that he guessed wasn't going away soon. "You are Brun and Aliara Whitecleeve?"  
  
The farmer frowned in alarm at her but nodded mutely. He tried to ask something but stopped, impeded by the gag.  
  
"We found dis," she explained, holding up a battered leather-bound diary. The thong tying it shut had been cut and he closed his eyes. His diary. Even his wife hadn't seen everything in it. "It tells quite a tale but de captain -"  
  
"I don't trust it, or her, or you." Torak came forward, staring down at the man. "I should kill you both just to be sure but..." He shook his head. "I am sworn to de Light, and de corporal here has fought beside her kind at de Sunwell."  
  
Aliara stirred as they spoke, moaning softly, then letting out a shriek of fear that was muffled much as Brun's words had. She didn't struggle. She knew fast, good bindings when she felt them.  
  
The captain tromped around to look her squarely in the face, asking something in a harsh tongue. They both knew it to be Orcish but neither of them could speak or understand it.  
  
Brun's wife flinched and watched the draenei in confusion as he said something else, clearly a threat. Tears rolled down her face as she listened to him threaten, cajole and accuse her in a language she had no grasp of. Finally, though, the captain looked up and shook his head.  
  
The corporal nodded as if she'd expected it and cast some form of spell over the weakened elf, watching her shiver slightly as her body began repairing itself in a green flare.  
  
"So she doesn't know Orcish, doesn't mean she's worth trusting." Torak harrumphed and looked at the elf. Every bit of him radiated anger and frustration; he shifted awkwardly in his armour.  
  
Brun watched the man. The draenei's White gaze drilled into Aliara's green eyes as he sized her up, hatred fighting with something else.  
  
Then he saw the man's eyes flicker down.  
  
He sighed inwardly, angry and despairing -  _this_ again? The captain was staring at his wife's lips, her breasts, her waist. Was he to be made a cuckold once more, his wife to trade her body for their freedom? Grief fought with arousal and he tried not to hope it was so, tried to ignore the swelling of his cock and the realisation that the shaman corporal had seen it. Her gaze made it all the worse and a strange tension filled the little house.  
  
"Anyt'ing?" the captain growled suddenly, seizing the elf's chin. "You'd do anyt'ing for your husband's freedom?"  
  
Immediately Aliara nodded. She would. She would die for him, if need be, but death wasn't quite what the huge draenei had in mind. He stood and began unbuckling his belt.  
  
"Take de human outside," he ordered in an absent voice, eyes still fixed on Aliara's.  
  
"Captain," Venya began, her strange tendrils quivering with discomfort. Her voice was filled with objection and in that moment Brun adored her for defending them.  
  
" _Direct order,_  Corporal Venya," the male roared, and all three of them jumped slightly. Brun didn't miss the flush that crossed the corporal's face, nor the one that darkened his wife's cheeks. "Follow your orders. And you, Brun Whitecleeve," he added with a snarl, "pray to de Light dat your fel-suckling wife does de same."   
  
* * * * *

  
  


It was cold outside. It was Dun Morogh, after all. Brun didn't really feel it as he was led outside. His hands were still behind his back, firmly tied, but Venya directed him without pushing or shoving.   
  
"I am sorry," she whispered, leading him away from the house, past the elekks, out into the trees beyond. "Dis was never supposed to happen."   
  
The farmer's eyes flashed in indignation and he tried to speak, closing his eyes when he remembered he couldn't.   
  
Venya watched Brun for a few moments and then reached down, unbuckling the gag. Brun let out a groan of relief and worked his aching jaw. He wasn't used to the round ball.   
  
"What do you mean," he asked tersely, "that it 'wasn't supposed to happen'? Is this all some big ruse? Did you know we were out here all along?"   
  
"No! No, I..." Venya shook her head, eyes wide and somehow young-looking, hair bobbing around her face. "I mean, when we saw de blood elf we t'ought you were sone kind of captive. Den we read your journal..."   
  
Brun watched Venya trying, unsuccessfully, not to blush. He understood why; there were a lot of very steamy tales in that diary, all of them true, as well as his own thoughts and fantasies.   
  
"It was so... Sad," the draenei woman said, "to be tricked so. And I t'ought dat de captain would feel de same way -"   
  
"But he got rock-hard thinking about fucking my wife," Brun spat out, glaring in the direction of the house. "And now here we are, waiting in the snow while he screws her."   
  
An awkward pause.   
  
"Will she?" Venya asked, blushing again.   
  
"Fuck him? Yes." Brun snorted. "She'll love it, too, if he's aggressive enough.". He looked the woman over. "So your superior officer is over there ploughing my wife, using our release as an excuse."   
  
"I... Yes," she whispered. There was no way of denying it. "He is."   
  
"And that makes you wet, doesn't it? If your kind gets wet," he added. "Wet and hot. I can tell because you keep looking at my cock."   
  
Her eyes snapped up from their busy task of doing exactly that and she nodded hesitantly.   
  
"You are so angry? You are very hard," she began, but closed her sweet lips at Brun's sour laugh.   
  
"Spare me," he growled, "your captain is forcing my wife to whore herself to him for the price of our lives, I think I can be forgiven my anger."   
  
She dropped her gaze, unable to look him in the eye. Embarrassment and shame radiated from her; at any other time he would have tried to soothe her feelings. Right then he just wanted to make her pay, just as Aliara was paying.   
  
"Untie me."  
  
* * * * *

 

In the little house the captain was moaning softly. He hadn't hurried as he stripped his armour off, revealing the simple under-shirt and breeches that protected his skin from the heavy plate armour.  
  
Aliara hadn't said a word when he pulled her gag off. She kept her gaze down, lips closed but ever so slightly pursed, inviting and demure at the same time. She and Brun had played this sort of game many times.  
  
Her eyes went briefly wide, though, when he pulled his member from his pants. Long and thick, bigger than Brun's, she was thankful to see it was neither plated nor tentacled. It was very hard, though, the bulbous glans shining in the light, thick white shaft both tempting and intimidating.  
  
He had taken hold of her jaw, squeezed the hinge points painfully until she opened her mouth, and then guided the tip past those red, soft lips.  
  
Soon he moaned at the feel of her, the slip of her tongue, the willingness and submission. When he pushed forward she stifled a squeak, determined to make no noise until he wanted her to, opening her mouth as wide as she could to let that monster pole in.  
  
She bobbed obediently on that meat as his impossibly strong hand grasped a handful of her hair and started moving her. Soon the top of his cock glistened with her saliva and his groaning grew louder.  
  
Then he stopped, pulled her off his member, brought his hand around in a slap.  
  
A pause, and then Aliara angled her cheek, both to show off the redness and to offer herself up for another.   
  
* * * * *

 

Brun rubbed his wrists. He didn't even look around when he heard the slap. Venya did, though, letting out a little gasp and then looking down again.  
  
The farmer was watching the draenei woman struggle with her reactions. It turned her on, he could see that, but she felt ashamed and horrible. Did that turn her on more?  
  
The second slap, louder than the first, had more than a hint of moan as it drifted to them on the breeze. Brun decided, in that moment, that this time it would be different. Torak could take his Aliara, and Brun couldn't stop him, but the farmer could get some of his own back.  
  
"Hear that?" he asked in a mild tone, moving up behind the woman. "Slapping her. So much for it being a simple transaction. Violence now. Is that what you wanted?"  
  
"N-no," Venya started, moving to turn around and face him, but Brun took a firm hold of her tail. He heard her gasp and wondered how sensitive it was.  
  
"But look at you. Cheeks are burning, body is shivering, even your tail's hot." His hand slid up and down that extremity and she had to bite back a moan. "Are the two of you lovers?"  
  
She shook her head at first but, eventually, nodded. "Once. We aren't spoken for." She was holding her body very still, as if moving might break this strange spell.  
  
"But you liked it," he whispered, running his free hand up to take hold of her horn. He tugged on it, steering her towards a small rock, turning her back to it so he could stand behind her more comfortably.  
  
Venya resisted at first - a little. Certainly not enough to break away, nothing of the sort, and he wondered if her token resistance was aimed at anything but making the matter a bit more interesting. He steered her like she were a cow or a ram, pulling her head where he wanted it to go.  
  
"Hmmm," he noted as his hand moved from her tail up over her side, wrapping around one of her magnificent orbs and squeezing it. "Hard nipples, and I bet that's not just the cold." Strong fingers found her stiffened buds, pinched, pulled through the cloth.   
  
* * * * *

 

Aliara found that she could take him further than she'd anticipated. It was tricky at first but she got the hang quickly, keeping her jaw open and relaxed.  
  
His hands had found her long ears and grasped them, tightly enough to sting just a little. That massive white flesh-pole slid smoothly into her little maw as he thrust.  
  
She surprised the captain with her willingness. Whenever he stopped to back off from the heated pleasure and avoid orgasm Aliara took over the motion, suckling warmly and bobbing over his glans.  
  
Lips and tongue kept the stimulation going and his pleasure high, teasing and tempting him, as if daring him to lose control and fuck her face too deeply.  
  
He wanted to, he dearly wanted to, but refused to let himself. It would serve the fel-tainted slut right if he damaged her but even though she didn't have fangs her teeth were still hard.  
  
And, so, it wasn't long before he pulled out of her mouth.  
  
Aliara blinked in surprise, an expression that twisted into one of pain as he pulled her up by the hair, chair and all, until she was standing. Turning her from him he reached over for his dagger and slashed her free from the chair, leaving her arms bound tightly behind her.  
  
As the chair clattered to the floor the huge male growled menacingly in her ear. "Your filthy lying mouth can take dat punishment easily," he hissed, "but let's see how dis damned little slit manages."  
  
She was moved as if she weighed nothing, legs quickly lashed to the chair do she was bent over the low back at the waist. He freed her arms, then, though only long enough to tie those to the chair as well. Helpless again.  
  
The bound elf could only wait as her captor trotted about the chair, viewing her at all angles, assessing whether he approved or not.  
  
* * * * *

 

"I wonder what they're doing," Brun commented casually, both hands now massaging Venya's generous mounds as she whimpered and sighed before him. "Would he have that thick pole in her mouth?" He drew the fingers of one hand over the draenei's lips, felt her breath shudder over them, the hesitant touch of her trembling tendrils along his wrist. "Between her tits?" Both hands squeezed her breasts again before one trailed down her stomach.  
  
That hand gathered up the cloth of the robe's skirt, dragging it high, exposing her long legs until it finally curled between her thighs. "Her pussy?" Long, strong fingers worked along the cloth strip of her panties, discovered the gusset was soaked.  
  
Venya let out a long, guttural moan as his fingers rubbed there, hips shifting to meet the human's questing digits. The moan changed to helpless whimpering and shivering as he slid two fingers past the fabric, running the tips up and down her plush, welcoming petals, not yet entering. He grinned widely; seems the horned women did get wet. And hot.  
  
"Or maybe," he mused, shifting his hand around, "he's back here..." Those two dampened fingers slid down the back of her underwear and found the tight pucker of her ass.  
  
"Oh!" the corporal yelped, tail shifting to coil loosely around his wrist. "M-maybe... De price... De price dat your wife is forced to pay. Are you going..." She swallowed. "Are you going to take it out of m-my body?"  
  
"Selling your body for the price of your honour," he whispered in her pointed ear, "that would make you a dirty little whore. Wouldn't it?"  
  
Venya nodded hesitantly and let out a little squeal as she felt one of his fingers break her back seal, sliding into her hind passage. "I... Oh! I... I am, if you want me to be," she quivered, trying not to push back onto that invading digit.  
  
"Then maybe you'll get to keep your pride," he growled as the finger pushed deeper, "my blue-skinned little honour-whore..."  
  
She let out a deep purring moan and lifted her tail clear, exposing herself to him, letting him take her as he would. But still she would not push back.  
  
* * * * *

 

Aliara was familiar with the position she found herself in, tied down over that chair, even comfortable with it. There was undeniable fear in her heart, though - he was huge, this strange captain, thick and long.  
  
The draenei could easily kill her at any time and, from the little that she understood of the matter, could have good reason.  
  
Yet he'd said the corporal had fought alongside other blood elves - 'real' blood elves, as Aliara considered the matter - and had seen camaraderie and value in them.  
  
She couldn't help but think about that exotic, beautiful corporal. Had she staved off the fear and horror of war, as many did, in the arms of a fellow soldier? Had she been fucked by blood elves, humans?  
  
Was she fucking Brun right then, as she was tied helpless over a chair?  
  
Aliara let out a deep, guttural moan as the captain's fingers slid over her sex. She was hot, soaking wet, hungry for it like she wouldn't have thought possible, and it had much more to do with the thought of Brun cuckolding her than it did the white giant behind her.  
  
"Dat, you like dat?" he growled. "Tied down and ready? You're quite de pretty little slut, aren't you..."  
  
She nodded, hoping that mind-reading wasn't amongst this huge man's abilities. Maybe Brun had Venya lashed to the hitching-post... The mixture of jealousy and arousal was intoxicating; no harm if the captain didn't realise the real cause for the juices running down her thighs.  
  
But she was brought back to the present when the draenei slid two fingers into her damp tightness.  
  
They were thick, those digits, and she couldn't bite back a soft cry of pleasure from the feeling. Her pleasure seemed cut short, though, when they withdrew to leave her feeling empty.  
  
And then she felt his glans at her petals, slipping up and down in her fluid before the man's enormous cock pushed in.  
  
She let out a high-pitched squeal of delight. The intensity, being stretched so mercilessly by his giant of a weapon, was incredible. The first thrust had him halfway in her; the second had him hilted, his pendulous blue-white balls bumping against her swollen clit.  
  
Torak gave her no time to adjust or settle. With his hands on her hips he pulled out almost entirely and then plunged back home. She let out another squeal, then a heated moan as he spanked her roughly across one upturned buttock.  
  
Her squeaks and shrieks dissolved into low, husky groans as he began a long, deep beat. Each thrust tested her limits, ground his meat over her sweet spot, thumped her button gently with his heavy sac.  
  
This was going to hurt. In the best way.   
  
* * * * *

 

Brun's cock was a surprisingly pleasing thickness and length, Venya found, to her quiet delight. She'd had to bite her lip to stop herself from moaning as he rubbed the heated tip of his manhood against her slick sex, spreading her nectar, readying her.  
  
She tasted blood when he bore forward into her ass, just a little, as her fangs dug into those pillowy lips. Not even that was enough to stop a groan as he hilted in her and then she did push backwards, her plush buttocks pressing against his hips. Her nails dug into the bark of the tree he'd leaned her against and she grabbed it desperately as she felt him start to thrust.  
  
He was gentle, considering everything, but not too gentle. That was fine with Venya, she wanted him to be rough with her, didn't mind if it hurt. She could heal, after all.  
  
The draenei leaned away, holding herself still, letting him do all of the moving. Brun grinned a little and raised a hand, bringing it down in a sharp smack across one rounded buttock. The sound ricocheted around the little yard and he began to fuck her deeper, a little more forcefully. Her whimpers changed to desperate groans and the louder she got the harder he thrust.  
  
A hand seized her hair, pushed her face against the tree, dug the tip of one horn into its tough bark-covered surface. It wasn't kind and she had to hang on hard to stop from being pushed over. Her hooves dug into the ground hard as she spread them for him.  
  
Heat, intense heat, and such pleasure! She'd had bigger men. She'd had gentler and rougher. But Brun's skill with his pole startled her, and as spike after spike of raw pleasure shot through her body she felt her tail coiling around his hip as far as it would go. She didn't bother stopping her moans now, pushing back against him now and then to urge him to go faster, harder.   
  
* * * * *

 

Those moans were unheard by the pair in the house. Aliara was already making plenty of noise. Her ass was as red as a cherry and very warm, her pussy a heated, soaked mess stretched around his great girth. All thought of Brun, indeed all thought, had been driven out of her head at the insistent ramming of that massive rod.  
  
She was his fuck-toy, this tender elf tied to a chair, helpless and open before him. She didn't even remember getting close, couldn't distinguish between the start of the fucking and being worked up before she was suddenly twitching and convulsing in the grips of a powerful orgasm.  
  
The captain snarled and pulled out sharply, one massive hand clenching around the base of his cock. He wasn't ready to cum yet. Instead he untied her and as he pulled her to her feet she found she couldn't stand; her starved muscles were too weak and the all-over shivering of her aftershocks didn't help.  
  
He scooped her up with one arm, holding her tight against his side as he pulled the chair out of the way. Aliara soon found herself on the bed, face-down, the draenei man deftly tying her arms behind her once more.  
  
Of course he didn't need to. She wasn't going anywhere. But she liked it so she neither struggled nor complained, a soft purring moan spilling from her lips to encourage him. Soon tightly trussed she was turned on her back again, legs spread lewdly wide.  
  
Then his thick white shaft pressed into her again. She was more loose now but it still stretched her, and that purring grew a little louder as she welcomed the man's cock into her depths.  
  
As he leaned forward to put a hand either side of her head she could see in his face that he wasn't going to last much longer and her back arched in anticipation of his seed. She knew what she wanted.  
  
When she saw him bring the ball of her favourite gag near her face Aliara obediently opened her mouth, ruby lips parting easily to accept the rubber sphere. She lifted her head to let him buckle it into place and then moaned against it as he started fucking her once more.  
  
* * * * *

 

Venya's tail left Brun's hip to lash quickly from side to side as the human pounded her rear hole. She was stretched and tight around him and every thrust seemed to run over her g-spot perfectly through her fleshy wall. Finally she wrapped that mobile extremity around the man's wrist as he gripped her hip tightly.  
  
Obscene moans left her mouth as he ploughed her back field. The muscles in her back moved sensually under her blue skin as she writhed hard. One of the draenei's hands slipped down to her pussy and she found it wet, so wet that when she slipped two fingers into herself a bead of liquid spilled from her petals and down one thigh.  
  
It was awkward to finger herself when his cock was crushing her digits so masterfully through that cushioned barrier but she did her best and before long he could tell her pleasure was spiking powerfully.  
  
“Are you going to cum,” he asked between grunts and thrusts, “little blue slut? Are you going to cum hard?”  
  
“Ye-ess, yesyes, hard,” she gasped, nodding as best she could and leaving a scar in the tree's bark with her sharp horn. That was as much warning as she could give him before she was suddenly bucking hard, forcing him to grab hold of her and steady her as he pounded her through a sharp, intense climax.  
  
It was a good thing he was holding onto her wide blue hips or she'd certainly have fallen, her long hooved legs buckling under the intensity of the sensation. She clenched powerfully around his member and he had to fight the urge to finish straight away.  
  
He managed it, but barely. It wasn't long after she'd settled into aftershocks that his peak hit, surprising him in its intensity. Rolling up from his belly it seemed to turn his mind white and he lets out a gasping growl as he buried himself into her as far as possible, cock pulsing and throbbing as his cum spilled out thick and creamy into her.  
  
Then his legs gave way, and hers did too, and suddenly they were on all fours in the snow. His hands were still wrapped around her hips, the fingers of one of her hands rubbing over her slit and sensitive button slowly, firmly as the other propped her up.  
  
* * * * *

 

Aliara saw his orgasm coming. His huge frame moved over her as he bucked powerfully, hips tilting and thrusting as he pushed into her sex. Her eyes glowed with need and her beautiful elven face twisted in pleasure as he groaned.  
  
One of his hands grabbed her shoulder suddenly, hard, and the other pinned her hip as he shifted speed, ramming her as hard and fast as he could. She squealed around the gag at the intensity of it and when he plunged deeply one final time she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him close, heels at the base of his thick, plated tail.  
  
She could feel him throb in her as his potent seed burst into her waiting cunt, filling her. She arched her back as he came, needing as much as he could give, squeezing her walls around his rod to milk as much from him as possible.  
  
He slumped over her, then, spent and exhausted. The two of them stared at each other, their foreheads almost bumping, her fel-tainted green eyes gazing deeply into his shining white orbs. Then, after a long time, he pulled out of her with a single slick motion and got up.  
  
Torak left her there, tied and gagged, as he dressed. He didn't look over at her and for a while Aliara thought it was from disgust. Finally, however, his great head turned her way. He opened his mouth to say something and Aliara saw shame on his face.  
  
She shook her head softly. She couldn't smile around the gag but he saw it at the corners of her eyes, saw the satisfaction in the minute wriggle she gave, in the slow but sensual motion of one leg scissoring very slightly over another.  
  
He gave her the smallest of smiles and then a nod. Then he turned and left.  
  
* * * * *

 

Corporal Venya was standing very still when he caught sight of her, the human farmer right next to her. They were talking quietly in a soft tone and he quirked a brow at them. Venya seemed to be very ready to go; even the elekks were prepared.  
  
“We must go,” he said curtly. “We've detained dese people long enough.”  
  
Venya nodded and moved towards the beasts, her legs very nearly collapsing under her. As if he'd expected it the human put his hand out to steady her, catching around her arm. Torak watched thoughtfully.  
  
“Are you unwell, corporal?” he asked and noted as Venya blushed deeply, shook her head, straightened her shoulders.  
  
“No, captain. Like just been riding a bit too much.”  
  
“Well, we've more to do. Mister Whitecleeve,” he asked, glancing at Brun, “can we get directions to de closest settlement?”  
  
The look the human gave him was far from friendly. That was to be expected, really. He simply nodded and gestured to Venya.  
  
“He's informed me of de easiest way back, captain,” Venya said, mounting with unusual care. “It isn't far. I've also arranged, wit' your permission, to return at some point to check on de pair.” She looked over at the captain with a neutral expression, and the huge Paladin nodded.  
  
“All right. Light watch you,” he said shortly to Brun, who nodded wordlessly and headed inside again.  
  
Torak watched him go and then, squaring his shoulders, nodded to Venya. “Let's head out.”  
  
* * * * *

 

That's where he found her, trussed and full of another man's cum. The sight of his beautiful wife in repose, half-asleep and tied, was both heartwarming and arousing. So he told her he loved her, kissed her nose, nuzzled it.  
  
Brun went to run a bath for her. He took his time and smiled slightly as he recognised the sound of his Aliara sleeping quietly as he went about his business. Then he lifted her from the bed and took over, kissing her cheek as she awoke, untied her and bathed her gently.  
  
The love they made that night was warm, slow, tender. They snuggled closely after in one another's arms, Aliara's head on his shoulder.  
“Did you fuck her?” the elf asked suddenly, not looking up, her voice soft and warm.  
  
“Up the ass.”  
  
“Did she cum?”  
  
“Really hard.”  
  
Aliara grinned widely and ran a hand over Brun's spent, satisfied cock. “Good. I liked her. She was nice. She was your first, too,” his wife said softly, “your first  _other_ woman since we married. Did you like it?”  
  
“Very much.” He nodded. “I think I like it blue.”  
  
She giggled and yawned again, drifting off to sleep soon after. He followed shortly after to dream of warm blue skin and shining white eyes.  
  
  
_Ende_


End file.
